


Too Long a Sacrifice Can Make a Stone of the Heart

by velvetjinx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2017, Fluff, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, References to Depression, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 03:58:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11119440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: After Bucky pulls Steve from the river, he escapes, only to find himself at a loss. With no more HYDRA giving him orders, he's like a ship cast adrift. Checking in on Steve gives him the purpose he so desperately needs, but when he realises Steve might have found someone new, his world collapses.However, things are not always what they seem, and Steve isn't done with Bucky yet.





	Too Long a Sacrifice Can Make a Stone of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Artwork](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/297186) by Sheto. 



> Ooooohhhhhhhh my gosh, this was a labour of love. Thanks be to Sheto for the fantastic artwork, albymangroves for the utterly amazing beta, potofsoup for the additional assistance, ediblecrayon as always for the cheerleading, and the mods and members of the CapRBB2017 slack chat for the encouragement, inspiration, and love. 
> 
> Title from Yeats's poem Easter 1916 because I'm a lit nerd.

Dripping wet and cold, although he doesn't really feel it, he walks away from the river and the man who had called him Bucky. 

He knows now that it was Steve, his best friend, his first love, his friend from childhood. His memories are disjointed and incomplete, but he remembers Steve. Steve, whom he shot. Steve, whom he beat half to death. Steve, whom he nearly killed. 

He's known himself as the Asset for so long it feels strange to think of himself as anything else. But Steve had called him Bucky, and that feels right. Feels true. When he thinks of himself as Bucky, a thousand memories trip across his senses--sights and sounds and tastes and smells, all just out of reach. 

He looks down at his sopping wet clothes and frowns. Someone will probably be looking for him; he is, after all, a HYDRA Asset. A criminal. A murderer. Bile rises in his throat and he leans into a bush to vomit. 

HYDRA had lied to him, manipulated him, brainwashed him. Told him that what he was doing was for the good of humanity. But as he clings to the foliage, emptying the contents of his stomach, the faces of so many of his victims flash across his consciousness and tears well up in his eyes. 

He is Bucky. He is Bucky. He is not just the Asset. He is not just some tool of HYDRA’s. He is a person, though not quite a complete one. But he clings to the name, and to the memories of Steve, hoping against hope that they will help him through. 

He straightens up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before pausing. If someone is looking for him, there will be a description out there, so he needs to find other clothes as soon as possible. He is terrified and unsure for the first time in a long time. When he had a mission it was easy: follow orders, do as he was told, use the training. But now he has no one to give him orders. He's adrift; a ship without a harbor. 

He needs a plan. 

He hears footsteps and quickly climbs into the bushes, hiding himself. Several people run past his hiding place, towards where he'd left Steve, and he heaves a silent sigh of relief. Hopefully they're not too late to save him. 

He remains hidden until the coast is clear and long afterwards, sitting as still as he can in case anyone comes back. No one does, however, and as the day’s shadows lengthen he nods to himself. 

He has a plan. 

***

Bucky waits until night falls, then ventures into the city. It's chaos; the fallout from the ships crashing into the ground is immense, and the carnage widespread. He picks his way stealthily through the debris, until he comes across a clothing store, windows blown out. There are a lot of people looting various stores around him, and in his all-black outfit he fades into the background, so he figures he's safe. He steps through the broken window and looks through the store until he finds some clothes in his size. On a whim, he also takes a black baseball cap and a pair of black gloves from a display. 

The clothes have plastic tags on them that he can't get off easily, and when he finally manages to force one off, ink spills out over the garment. He frowns and grabs another the same, before going up to the counter. He spots something that looks like it fits the tag and presses one into the dip. The tag comes free in his hands, and he works quickly to take the others off. He forces open the three tills and takes what small amount of loose change is in there; it’s so little that it hardly seems worth it, but then to his surprise one of the tills also has a wad of dollar bills that had clearly been forgotten, and he can't quite believe his luck. Although there isn't a lot, it should be enough to be getting on with for now. 

He stuffs the stolen clothes into a carrier bag and escapes, pulling the jacket on over his soaked combat gear, wincing as the wet leather chafes uncomfortably against his skin. He puts on the gloves and baseball cap, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He needs to find a place to hide, to lay low. He walks around until he finds an abandoned building, broken windows like empty eyes, and hauls the door open. The inside smells fusty and damp, and the dust makes him sneeze, but it will do for now. 

He changes into some of his new clothes and pillows his head on the jacket, laying his combat gear out on the filthy floor to dry. It takes him a long time to sleep, and when he does, his sleep is fitful and full of nightmares. Every small sound wakes him, and when morning light streams in he feels almost less rested than he had when he'd lain down. 

***

Once Bucky’s rolled up all his clothes and put them into the carrier bag, he realizes that he's hungry. He doesn't remember the last time he was really hungry, and the feeling is so unfamiliar it takes him a while to recognise it. He shoves the stolen money deep into the pocket of his jeans, and heads out in search of food. 

He walks until the streets start to get busier and he finds a small grocery store. He buys a loaf of bread and a stick of butter, as well as some bottles of water. He hesitates, then picks up a daily newspaper, adding it to the pile on the counter. The cashier smiles at him as she serves him, and when he turns to leave she calls out, “Have a nice day, sir!”

“Thank you,” he replies hoarsely. “You too.”

Her smile widens, so he knows it was the right response, but the words feel dry and taste of ash in his mouth. He no longer knows how to get by in the real world, and the knowledge causes an ache in his chest. He has a sudden flash of memory of looking in the mirror, seeing his own happy reflection with his easy smile looking back at him, and wonders if he can ever smile like that again. 

He takes his purchases back to the abandoned apartment block which looks, if possible, even more derelict in daylight. The walls are graffitied in colorful paints, names and curses covering equal amounts of space, with the occasional picture in between. It's the same inside, but the paint is old and faded; it doesn't look like anyone has been in there for a long time, maybe years. 

He sits on the floor and takes out the bottles of water first, placing them on the floor beside him. He then takes out the bread and stick of butter, laying them on top of the bag. Tearing off a piece of bread, he takes the glove off his right hand and scoops up some butter, spreading it onto the bread. 

The bread is fresh enough to still be slightly warm, and he marvels at the slightly yeasty taste on his tongue. He chews carefully before swallowing, then takes a few sips of water. He realises suddenly that he's thirsty too, but somewhere in the dim recesses of his brain is a memory of someone telling him not to gulp water too fast or he'll make himself sick, so he sips slowly. 

Bucky eats a quarter of the bread and drinks half of one of the small bottles of water; he's not sure when he's going to be able to get more money, so he needs to make it last. He wraps up the bread and butter, putting them back in the bag and placing it next to his bag of clothes. He considers the newspaper for a moment, before opening it. Most of the news is, of course, about the previous day’s events, and the heroic actions of Captain America and his friends. It mentions that Steve is now in hospital, unconscious, taken there near death and Bucky feels the blood drain from his face. He did that to Steve. It doesn't matter that he was brainwashed; he should have remembered Steve. He hates himself for not remembering in time, before he had shot his best friend. 

The newspaper mentions the name of the hospital Steve is in, and Bucky thinks for a few moments before making a decision. Now he has civilian clothes he should be able to get into the hospital without difficulty. Steve probably doesn't want to see him after what he did, and there's a good chance Steve will hand him over to the authorities, but it's no more than he deserves. He just needs to see Steve. To apologize. 

As he's about to close the newspaper, something catches Bucky's eye. There's a mention of the suit that Steve was wearing when they fought; the newspaper says it was from the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian museum. Bucky bites his lip uncertainly. Should he go to the exhibit first? He feels as though there may be some answers there, answers to questions he's almost afraid to ask. 

Bucky sighs. This is something he needs to do, no matter how difficult. He stores his bags in a dark corner of the room before heading out the door, shutting it tightly. He picks a blade of grass which is growing out of the concrete, and slips it between the door and the frame at the top. It's a crude trick, but at least he'll know of anyone has been here while he's out. 

***

The exhibit is pretty crowded; no doubt it's because Captain America is in the public eye again. Bucky loses himself among the crowds, wandering through as he looks at the different displays. Suddenly and unexpectedly, he comes upon a display that appears to be all about him. He stares at it, swallowing hard as he's overcome with so many emotions he can hardly name them all. Anger, sadness, relief… and underneath it all an undercurrent of pain and grief for the man he once was. 

Feeling completely overcome, he turns on his heel and walks out as quickly as he can without drawing attention to himself. Once outside, he takes a deep gulping breath of fresh air in an attempt to calm himself. It half works--he feels his heart rate begin to slow again, thumping in a regular rhythm rather than fluttering so fast he thought he might collapse. 

He stops a man in an expensive looking business suit who is walking towards him. “Excuse me,” he says quietly, “but do you know the way to the St Vincent’s Medical Center?”

The man looks harassed, although Bucky doesn't think it's aimed at him. “Sure, yeah,” the man replies, and gives him directions which Bucky absorbs eagerly. 

“Thank you,” Bucky tells him gratefully, and the man nods before striding off. 

Bucky follows the directions to the letter, and soon finds himself at St Vincent’s. He sneaks past the nurses’ station as soon as their backs are turned, peering in the window on each door as he passes until he sees Steve, lying in bed, face battered and bruised. 

_I did that to him,_ Bucky thinks, nausea rising, but he swallows it down. He finds himself surprised, and then angry, that there are no guards outside the door. Although it makes his life easier, he wonders how they can justify leaving their hero so vulnerable. As he reaches for the door handle, however, he notices that Steve is not alone; there's a man in there, joking and laughing with Steve. Bucky recognizes him from the previous day--he was the guy Bucky tried to kill by tearing off a wing and kicking him off the ship. 

Bucky swallows hard as the realization hits him that if he goes in there now he's going to have to defend himself. He doesn't want to make a scene, not while Steve is in a hospital bed, so he quietly withdraws and leaves, heading back to the abandoned building. 

***

Bucky returns to the hospital several times the following day and the day after that, careful to always stay out of sight of the nurses or anyone else who might stop him and question his presence, but there's always someone in with Steve. Sometimes it's that same guy, sometimes it's a redheaded woman whom he recognizes--he thinks he tried to kill her too. He doesn't ever linger outside Steve's hospital room; he knows that if he's spotted by any of them the consequences could be dire, and so he only peeks in carefully before making his escape again. 

While outside in the world, he finds himself constantly on the alert, always looking over his shoulder. The sounds of sirens make his pulse quicken, but they always pass by, and when they've gone he heaved a sigh of relief. He's probably being hunted by both sides now, and he can't be too cautious. 

Every night he returns to the abandoned building. It's uncomfortable and barely warm enough but Bucky knows that this is all he deserves, hiding in a hole like a rat. 

On the third day, as he arrives on the hospital grounds, in the distance he sees Steve being wheeled out by the redheaded woman and the guy. She hugs both of them, and Steve gets up, limping slightly beside the guy as they walk away. Bucky hides behind a tree as he watches them go, then stealthily follows, keeping far enough behind them that they won't know he's there. 

They lead him to an apartment, and he watches as they go inside together before retreating, resolving to come back when it's dark. 

That night, after sundown, he puts his combat gear back on. He hates the feel of it now, but it's black, and camouflages him better in the darkness. Besides, it's what he's used to now, and he knows how to move in it, prowling stealthily like a cat. He walks quickly to the apartment and goes around the side, peering in the window. 

What he sees makes his heart clench. Lit only by the light of the large television on the wall, Steve is lying on the sofa, back resting against the other guy as they watch whatever is on the TV. As he watches, the guy says something. Steve tilts his head back, smiling at him, and something in Bucky cracks open. They're sitting together the way he and Steve used to sit, after Steve had confessed his feelings to Bucky and all Bucky had felt was a rush of relief mingled with joy because he'd been in love with Steve for as long as he could remember. And they seem just as comfortable together as Steve was with Bucky. 

Steve has moved on. Of course he has. No wonder that guy was so often at Steve's bedside when he was in hospital. They're so obviously together; the casual touches speak volumes to Bucky. His heart is aching in his chest. 

He watches them for a few more moments before leaving, resolving that he won't come back. Steve is fine now, and doesn't need his protection. He has his new best guy to look after him. 

*** 

The following day, Bucky checks how much money he has left. There's enough to buy food for that day, but no more. He bites his lip weighing up his options. Getting a job is out of the question, of course, and he worries about the risk if he steals, but of course the other option is starve and he'd rather not do that either. 

He decides to go out for a walk to clear his head, in the hopes that inspiration will strike. A few blocks north he comes across a dilapidated neighborhood; several people are begging for change on the sidewalk, and every store has bars over the windows. The streets and buildings are dirty and unkempt, and the number of homeless seem to outnumber the actual residents. 

Bucky sees a sign outside one of the buildings saying “Homeless Soup Kitchen” and he goes inside the dimly lit building. Several tables are laid out over the large room, and there are a number of people scattered around, eating. Although his clothes are new, they are now grubby and unkempt from his nights sleeping on a filthy floor, so he doesn't look out of place. 

He walks slowly up to where the food is being served, and a young woman smiles at him. 

“I haven't seen you before,” she says as she dishes up what looks like oatmeal before handing him the bowl. “You new around here?” 

“Uh, yeah,” he replies. He hasn't had a hot meal for longer than he remembers and the smell of the oatmeal is making his empty stomach growl. 

The young woman looks at him sympathetically. “Well, we're open all day for all meals, if you need it.” 

“Thank you,” Bucky says, and takes his bowl of oatmeal over to an empty table along with a spoon from the side. 

The oatmeal is slightly gluey in texture as though it's been cooked too well, and he burns his tongue on the first few mouthfuls, but it fills him up enough that he's no longer hungry. Bucky takes the spoon and empty plate back up to the young woman, who smiles at him. 

“Thank you. Will we see you later?” 

Bucky nods. “Uh, yeah, probably.” 

"We start serving at twelve,” she tells him, before turning to serve another man, and he thanks her before turning to leave. *** 

Bucky goes back to the abandoned building and picks up the newspaper he'd bought on the first day, rereading the articles that mention Steve. Only now does he notice that they mention another man, Sam Wilson, who had helped Captain America defeat HYDRA. Bucky can only assume it’s the man he’s been seeing at Steve's side, and although he can't help the hurt at the thought of Steve with someone else, Bucky is glad that Steve has found someone willing to fight beside him. 

But oh god, how Bucky wishes it was him. 

He goes back to the soup kitchen for lunch, and again for dinner, passing the time between sitting alone on the floor of the abandoned building. He tries not to think over his past as the Asset, but the thoughts come, intrusive, into his mind. Names and faces and the sound of gunshots echo around his brain until he wants to scream. He wishes he could go and do something, anything, but he can't guarantee that no one is looking for him. And if they find him--if they catch him then he'll get exactly what he deserves. And he does deserve it, he knows. He fought them as long as he could, but in the end he was so tired they overwhelmed him and brainwashed him into obedience, and surely that's his fault. It's all his fault. 

*** 

That night, after darkness falls, all he wants to do is see Steve again. Even if it's through the window, even if he's with his new love, Bucky has to know that he's okay. That he's recovering from what Bucky did to him. _I’m with you ‘til the end of the line_ he thinks suddenly and he sees Steve beneath him, face battered and bruised and bloody. 

Completely overcome with sadness, Bucky breaks down, his sobs echoing around the empty room. He wishes so many things: that he had recognized Steve in time; that he had never been captured by HYDRA; that he had died when he had fallen from the train rather than be captured and experimented on like a rat. But his ma always used to say that if wishes were horses then beggars would ride, and he knows it's no use. 

He looks down at the pile of clothes on the floor and sighs, before changing into his tac gear. He'll go and see Steve once more. Just once. Then he'll go away, maybe hitchhike down to South America, far enough away that he can escape his past and try and start a new life. 

***

Half an hour later he finds himself outside the apartment building once more. He hides in the shadows as a couple walks by, holding hands and laughing, before he emerges and creeps stealthily up to the window again. This time the lights are on, and Steve and Sam are on the sofa again, pressed up close against each other as they look at something in Sam's hand. Steve is laughing, his expression open and joyful, and Sam grins back at him. 

Bucky watches for as long as he can bear to, until it all becomes too much and he melts back into the shadows. Steve looks happy, for all that his face is still a mess, and Bucky wonders if he's selfish for wishing that it was him that Steve was smiling and laughing with when he's clearly so happy with Sam. 

The next few days are a blur. He doesn't eat, barely drinks, and spends all his time either sleeping or staring at the graffiti on the walls, only getting up to piss. It’s like he’s in a deep, dark well from which he feels like he'll never escape. 

Within a few days, however, the hunger pains become too much, and he drags himself upright. He changes into his civilian clothes and pulls the baseball cap over his greasy hair. He makes sure his gloves are on before emerging, squinting at the sunlight. 

Bucky makes his way slowly to the soup kitchen, his feet dragging along the pavement as he walks. Lifting them seems like more effort than he can muster right now. 

The same young woman is behind the counter, and she takes one look at him before hustling him into a chair and putting a full plate of oatmeal in front of him, along with a large glass of water. He looks up at her, a question in his eyes. 

“I've seen that look before,” she says, frowning. “Plus you look like you've lost a few pounds over the last few days. Have you eaten anything at all since you were last in here?”

Bucky shakes his head slowly and she purses her lips. 

“Eat that then come and talk to me.”

Bucky does as he's told. He thinks at first his stomach is going to protest at him eating when he hasn't for three days; the pain is no more than he deserves for his crimes. But his stomach soon settles, so he slowly clears his plate and drinks the whole glass of water. 

Empty plate and glass in hand, he goes up to the young woman, who hands him a card with an address and number on it. 

“This guy is a doctor,” she explains. “He works with homeless people like yourself sometimes to help them deal with depression. You look like you need the help. Just tell him Elise sent you.”

Bucky swallows hard. “Thank you,” he says softly, overcome with gratitude at her kindness, even though he's unsure exactly what she means by ‘depression’. 

“Next time I see you, you had better be looking perkier,” she scolds him, but she's smiling, and Bucky finds himself smiling back. It's weak, but it's there, and the expression feels strange on his face as he uses muscles he's not used for longer than he can say. 

He puts the card in his pocket and nods at the young woman--Elise--before heading back out onto the street. 

He forces himself to go back for both lunch and dinner, although Elise isn't there. He can almost feel the card in his pocket, weighing heavily on him. He feels a lot better now he has food inside him again, but he vows that if he feels worse again tomorrow he'll find this doctor and scope him out to see if it's safe enough for him to visit. If he can get away with giving a false name. But then, if the doctor wants to do any kinds of tests on him…

He knows he's going to have to think long and hard about this one. 

After dinner he goes back to the abandoned building and lays down. _Just a short nap_ , he thinks to himself, and quickly falls fast asleep. 

It's dark when he jolts awake, screaming Steve's name. He looks at the pile of clothes for a moment, indecisive, before grabbing the black tac gear. This is it. The last time. Then he'll leave and never look back. 

***

Dressed once again in black, Bucky creeps up to the apartment window. The lights are on, but nobody's in there. Bucky frowns, disappointed. He had hoped to see Steve one last time, but he supposes that the universe has other ideas. Sighing, he starts to step back, just as Steve enters the room--

\--And looks out the window. Their eyes meet, and Bucky panics. He spins around and starts to run, but quickly hears footsteps behind him. 

“Bucky!” Steve calls, but Bucky keeps running. He can't face Steve, not now, maybe not ever. He knows that now. He feels like a coward, but he can't help it. 

“Buck!” Steve's voice is closer now; he seems to be catching up. Bucky puts on an extra spurt of speed, but his three days without food suddenly catch up to him and he stumbles. He recovers quickly, but not quickly enough, and suddenly Steve is there beside him, grabbing his arm. 

Bucky tries to break free but Steve's grip is strong, and he seems determined not to let Bucky escape. 

“Bucky, stop, hey, Bucky. Buck. Look at me.” 

Bucky looks up at Steve, unable to hide the fear in his eyes. 

“Is that really you, Buck?” Steve asks softly, and slowly Bucky nods. Steve bites his lip, then suddenly wraps him in a tight hug. Bucky gasps, unable to hold back the tears as he sobs onto Steve's shoulder. “Shh, Buck, it's okay,” Steve says soothingly. “It'll all be okay.”

“How?” Bucky asks thickly. 

“We'll make it okay.” Steve pulls back, his eyes scanning Bucky's body. “You look like shit, pal. Where have you been staying?”

Bucky shrugs. “An abandoned building. Seemed as good a place as any.”

Steve looks shocked. “What have you been doing for food?”

Bucky shrugs again, and Steve looks pained. “You got anything you need where you've been staying?”

“Just some clothes.”

“Is it far from here?”

Bucky shakes his head. “About ten minutes.”

Steve tugs at his arm. “Well, come on then. We'll get your clothes and then you're coming home with me.”

“I can't stay with you and your guy, Steve,” Bucky says quietly as they walk. “I tried to kill both of you.”

“My guy?” Steve looks confused. “But Sam's not…” He trails off with a sigh. “Look, it's fine. Sam will be fine with it, and I'm going back to my own apartment in New York tomorrow anyway. I was only staying with Sam while I healed up.”

“You sure he'll be okay with it? I tried to kill him. Tried to kill both of you,” Bucky repeats, mumbling. 

Steve's expression hardens. “That wasn't you, Buck. You didn't know what you were doing, and once you did you stopped yourself and pulled me from the river. You saved my life in the end.”

Bucky swallows around the sudden lump in his throat as they reach the abandoned building. He checks to make sure the blade of grass is still in place then leads Steve inside, and Steve looks around, expression horrified. 

“Jesus, Buck, this is where you've been sleeping?”

“It's as much as I deserve,” Bucky replies shortly, picking up his bag of clothes. 

Steve grabs his arm. “Don't fucking say that. Don't you dare blame yourself for what HYDRA did to you.” He takes a deep breath, and gives Bucky a half smile. “Come on. Come home.”

They walk back to the apartment in silence, for which Bucky is pretty glad. He doesn't know if he'd be able to talk to Steve about anything without completely breaking down. When they reach the apartment door, Bucky hesitates. 

“Are you sure…?”

“Buck,” Steve says, turning to face him. “It's fine. It'll all be fine. Okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky replies, and takes a deep breath before following Steve inside. 

“Sam!” Steve calls out as they walk through the apartment. 

“Steve, where the hell did you go? You just ran off…” Sam trails off as he notices Bucky, and immediately tenses. “Uh. Steve. Why is the Winter Soldier in my apartment?”

Steve gives Sam an annoyed look. “Sam, this is Bucky. _Not_ the Winter Soldier. Bucky pulled me from the river and saved my life.”

“Uh, yeah, after shooting you and beating you to a bloody pulp?” Sam responds incredulously. 

Bucky is ready to bolt, and Steve seems to sense this as he rests a comforting hand on Bucky's arm. 

“Sam.” 

Steve and Sam seem to have some kind of wordless conversation, and finally Sam sighs. 

“Fine.” He looks Bucky up and down. “You might wanna have a shower, though. You're filthy.”

“Thank you,” Bucky croaks, and Sam nods abruptly. 

“I'll get you a towel.”

“I'll put your clothes in the wash,” Steve adds as Sam leaves the room. “Uh. What do you want done with the stuff you're wearing? I don't think the washing machine can handle that much leather.”

“Burn it,” Bucky replies hoarsely. 

Steve's expression is understanding, and he squeezes Bucky's arm as Sam comes back in with a large white folded towel. 

Sam leads Bucky through to the bathroom, leaving him in there with a curt nod, and Bucky strips down before getting under the hot spray. He scrubs himself until his skin turns bright pink, as though he can wash off his past, and washes his hair twice to get rid of the greasy feeling. 

He steps out of the shower and dries himself off carefully, then looks at the pile of clothes on the floor. He doesn't want to put them back on; nor does he want to walk around in just a towel. 

A knock on the bathroom door startles him, and he wraps the towel around his waist before opening it. Steve stands there, a pile of clothes in hand. 

“Thought you might want something clean to put on,” he says, staring intently at Bucky's face, and Bucky nods gratefully. 

As he closes the door, Bucky notices Steve's gaze drop to his bare chest and a flush spreads over Steve's cheeks. The door shuts with a soft snick and Bucky leans against it.

***

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, Steve's clothes hanging slightly loose on his frame, Steve takes one look at him and frowns. 

“You hungry?” Steve asks, but Bucky shakes his head. 

“I'm not. Honestly, I'm not,” he adds at Steve's disbelieving look. “I've had three hot meals today from the soup kitchen.”

Steve closes his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Soup kitchen. Jesus, Buck, why didn't you come find me sooner?”

“I did,” Bucky admits, swallowing. “I saw you in the hospital, and I've seen you half a dozen times since.”

“Why didn't you talk to me?”

“And say what, Steve? That I'm sorry I tried to kill you and your friends? That I wish I'd just died when I fell from the train rather than become HYDRA’s lab rat and weapon?” Bucky's aware that he's shouting, but he can't seem to stop. “And then I saw you and Sam through the window and I knew you'd moved on with someone who would have your back.” He tries to say more but the words seem to be choking him, and he sees Sam get up out the corner of his eye. 

“Yeah, this isn't a conversation I want to intrude on,” Sam says quietly, before leaving the room. 

“Buck,” Steve begins hesitantly, “I'm not sure where you're getting this idea, but Sam and I aren't together.”

“You don't have to lie to me, Steve,” Bucky says resignedly. “I saw you both cuddling through the window, the night you came out of the hospital. You were sitting with him the way you and I used to sit.”

Steve's eyes widen. “Bucky… no, that's not--.” Steve presses his lips together. “Sam and I are friends, that's it. We're comfortable enough together to be pretty tactile, but he and I aren't like… aren't like you and me.” He sighs. “There's not really been anyone since you.”

Bucky looks at him curiously. “What do you mean, ‘not really’?”

Steve shrugs, squirming uncomfortably. “After I got defrosted, when I was trying to figure stuff out, I went to a bar. Found a guy, kissed him, but he wasn't you so I left.”

“Oh.” Bucky's mouth feels drier than desert sand. 

It’s as if Steve can hear his thoughts; he walks slowly towards Bucky, reaching for him and pulling him close. 

“I'm going to kiss you now, okay?” Steve asks softly, and Bucky nods, head reeling. 

The press of Steve's lips against his is gentle, testing the waters, and Bucky shifts slightly, kissing him back, hands gripping Steve's arms as though if he lets go Steve will disappear. 

Steve kisses him softly, never moving to deepen it, and Bucky feels himself relax. It's familiar yet not; so much time has passed that he can barely remember kissing Steve before, but muscle memory takes over, and he whimpers slightly as Steve pulls back. 

Steve licks his pink, kiss-swollen lips and smiles. “I've missed that.”

Bucky pulls him close and rests his forehead against Steve's. “Me too,” he confesses. 

Bucky hears Sam clear his throat and turns around to see him standing in the doorway. 

“Did y’all work out what you needed to work out?” he asks, eyebrow raised. 

Steve nods, wrapping an arm around Bucky's waist. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good.” Sam shakes his head. “I'm going to bed. If I hear any sex noises I'm kicking you both out--I don't care what time of night it is.”

Steve laughs at that, and even Bucky manages a smile. 

“Okay, Sam. We'll try not to offend your delicate sensibilities,” Steve says with a grin, but Sam just shakes his head before heading through to his bedroom. 

Steve turns back towards Bucky, holding him close. “We're gonna have to share the sofa, I'm afraid,” he murmurs. “That okay with you?”

Bucky nods, and Steve leaves the room, coming back with a pillow and a large duvet. Steve strips down to his t-shirt and boxers, so Bucky does the same, trying not to blush as Steve looks him up and down, self-consciously aware that these are Steve's own clothes. They've worn each other's clothes a thousand and one times before, but this feels new. Different. He watches as Steve climbs onto the sofa and lies down, duvet over him, before pulling back the top corner and gesturing to Bucky to lie down next to him. 

It's a tight squeeze, but they manage to fit themselves on, Steve spooning him with an arm around his waist. The sofa is soft and comfortable and the duvet warm, and despite being hyper aware of Steve's body behind him Bucky is so exhausted he soon feels his eyelids begin to close. 

“Hey, Buck?” Steve whispers. 

Bucky forces his eyes open. “Yeah?” he mumbles sleepily. 

“Were you ever gonna approach me? If I hadn't seen you?” 

Bucky shrugs. “I don't know. I wanted to, but I hate what I did to you, and I was so afraid of what you might say.”

“You idiot,” Steve says fondly, kissing the back of Bucky's head.

“Steve? Talk to me. Tell me about your life now.”

And Steve does. Bucky fights sleep as long as he can, thinking about their kiss and listening to Steve's whispered voice behind him, but all too soon it overtakes him and he falls into a deep slumber. 

***

He awakens in the dark, arms flailing and gasping Steve's name, and suddenly the arm around him tightens and Steve's voice says in his ear, “Shh, I'm here. It's okay, Buck. It's all okay.”

“You were dead,” Bucky manages, his voice catching as he holds back the tears which are threatening. “You were drowned, fuck, Steve…”

“Hey, hey, Buck, take a deep breath. I'm here and everything is okay.”

“I don't know, Steve,” Bucky says, sniffing as he feels a tear run down from his eye onto the pillow. “I think I'm broken.”

“You're not broken,” Steve responds quietly, kissing the nape of Bucky's neck and gently stroking his stomach through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “You've just been through a lot. But we’re together again now, and everything will be all right.”

“You can't promise that.”

“The hell I can't,” Steve murmurs with a laugh. “You and me, Buck? We’re gonna be fine. Now go back to sleep, and I'll be here when you wake up.”

Bucky nods, reaching down and threading his fingers through Steve's, still resting on his stomach. 

He doesn't remember falling asleep again, but the next thing he knows it's light out and Steve is yawning and stretching behind him. Bucky shifts, rolling over so he's facing Steve and tangling their legs together. 

Steve smiles at him. “Good morning. Any more dreams?”

Bucky shrugs. “Not that I remember,” he replies as a knock sounds at the living room door. 

“Are y’all decent in there?” Sam calls, and Steve grins. 

“What would you do if I said no?” Steve shouts back, winking at Bucky. 

“Fuck you, Rogers, I'm coming in.” The door opens and Sam strides in, already dressed, Bucky's clean, dry clothes in hand. He sets the clothes down on the floor next to the sofa and sighs. “Get your lazy asses up. Or have you forgotten you're going back to New York today?”

“What time is it?” Steve asks. 

“”Nearly nine. I've made breakfast. Figured you'd both be hungry.”

Sam leaves again, and Steve and Bucky smile at each other before getting up off the sofa. When Steve goes out to the bathroom Bucky changes quickly, then heads through to the kitchen. Sam motions for him to sit at the table, and Bucky does, feeling slightly awkward now Steve isn't there as a buffer. 

“Uh, Sam,” Bucky begins hesitantly. “I'm--I'm really sorry about everything.”

Sam gives him a level look. “The way Steve tells it you didn't know what you were doing. That true?”

Bucky nods. “They brainwashed me. Tortured me into obedience. The messed with my brain, wiping me every time I showed a hint of personality. I swear to you that's not who I really am.”

“Hmm.” Sam looks at him consideringly, then holds out his hand. Bucky takes it, and they shake. “If you hurt Cap you'll have me to answer to,” Sam adds, and Bucky can tell he's not even joking a little bit. 

“Duly noted.”

“And I still don't like you.”

Bucky can't tell if this one’s a joke, but he shrugs. “That's fair. I don't really like you either.” Sam gives him an appraising look, and Bucky fights the urge to squirm. 

Steve comes in at that moment, smiling broadly. “Hey, guys. What did I miss?”

Sam and Bucky exchange a look. “Nothing, Steve,” Bucky says eventually. “We were just talking.”

***

Breakfast over with and feeling pleasantly full, Bucky follows Steve into the living room, where he starts packing their things into a bag. 

“How are we getting to New York?” Bucky asks. 

“Natasha is giving us a ride. You'll like her, just… let me talk to her before she sees you, huh?”

“Is she the redhead?” Bucky asks curiously, and Steve laughs, surprised. 

“Uh, yeah, she is. In fact, I think that's her car now.” Steve frowns. “Wait here.”

Steve leaves the room, and Bucky hears the front door open and close. He picks up the bag, more to have something to do with his hands than anything else, and moves it from hand to hand nervously. 

It feels like a long time, although it's really only a few minutes, before Steve comes back in, the redhead from the hospital--Natasha--following. Her body language is tense and guarded, and she's frowning. Bucky isn't surprised. 

“Natasha, this is Bucky. Bucky, Natasha,” Steve says. 

“Uh, hi. Pleased to meet you,” Bucky responds quietly. Natasha stares at him for a few moments before turning to Steve. 

“You know he's tried to kill me. More than once.”

“I told you, Natasha, that wasn't Bucky. Not really,” Steve replies patiently. 

“So you say,” Natasha says, raising an eyebrow. “What does Sam think?”

“Sam's fine with him,” Sam interjects as he saunters into the room. “We've talked. It's cool.”

Natasha lets out a loud sigh. “Fine. You coming?” She turns and walks out, and Steve shrugs at Bucky before hugging Sam. 

“Thanks, Sam. For everything.”

“It's cool, man. Stay safe.”

“I will.”

Bucky hesitates for a moment, but Sam sees his aborted arm movement and rolls his eyes before pulling Bucky into a hug. He lets go quickly, looking surprised and slightly appalled at himself, and Bucky smothers a grin. 

“You take care of each other.” Sam narrows his eyes and Bucky nods. 

“We will.” Bucky smiles at Sam, then follows Steve out to the car. He throws the bag into the back seat and climbs in next to it, only just getting his seatbelt on before Natasha speeds off. 

***

The ride back is uncomfortable, to say the least. Natasha seems to have no interest in including Bucky in the conversation, and as soon as Steve tries to include Bucky, Natasha changes the subject. 

Finally, after about an hour and a half of this, Steve glares at Natasha. 

“Okay, fine, Natasha. You've made your point. You're not happy about Bucky being here. But he's here to stay, and you can either accept that or not. It's up to you.”

Bucky squirms, feeling as awkward as he can ever remember, then Natasha sighs. 

“Fine, Rogers. But I think your judgement is compromised. It's not even two weeks since he was trying to kill us all.”

“I won't… I wouldn't do that now,” Bucky responds quietly. 

“And how do we know that, Barnes? How do we know your training won't just kick in suddenly and you'll kill Steve in his sleep?”

“Because I remember now,” Bucky replies simply, and Natasha opens her mouth, then closes it again. 

“You see?” Steve asks her, his tone loaded with meaning, and Bucky sees her roll her eyes in the mirror. 

“So what _do_ you remember?” 

Bucky shrugs. “I remember Steve. I remember growing up, I remember my family.” He smiles softly. “Steve's mom’s name was Sarah. She used to put newspapers in his shoes.”

“And what about the people you killed. Do you remember them?”

“Natasha,” Steve says, his voice a warning, but Bucky just shakes his head. 

“Steve. It's okay.” He sighs. “Yes, I remember them. I remember all of them, I think, some more vividly than others. But I remember them.”

“Hmm.” Natasha glances at him in the rearview mirror. “If you hurt him, I _will_ kill you.”

“That's fine,” Bucky murmurs. “If I hurt him I don't think I'd want to live.”

Natasha's expression barely changes, but after years of learning to read people Bucky can tell she's shocked when her posture stiffens slightly. Steve doesn't notice as he's looking at Bucky, his expression soft. 

“You're not gonna hurt me, Buck.”

Conversation gets a bit easier after that, and before Bucky knows it they're back in New York. Natasha drives them through the heavy traffic with practiced skill, and Bucky's eyes widen when he realises where they're going. 

“You live in Brooklyn?” 

“You've seen my apartment, Buck,” Steve says quietly. “At least, the Winter Soldier saw it through the sights of a rifle.”

Bucky's jaw drops open as the memory comes to the fore. “Shit, Steve, I'm--”

“If you say you're sorry again I'm gonna smack you one,” Steve says jokingly, although Bucky can tell he's half serious. 

Natasha drops them off outside a large apartment block, and they all get out. Bucky grabs the bag as he sees Natasha hug Steve and whisper something in his ear. Steve frowns and shakes his head. 

Natasha nods at him. “Bye, Barnes. I'll be watching you,” she tells him before climbing into the car and driving off. 

Bucky looks at Steve. “All your friends hate me,” he says with a short laugh, “and I wish I could blame them but I can't.”

“Sam doesn't,” Steve reassures him, “and the others won't once they get to know you.”

“If you say so,” Bucky mutters as he follows Steve into the building. 

Steve's apartment is small and cosy, and Steve takes the bag off him as soon as they're in the door, putting it through in the bedroom. 

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you need anything?” Steve asks him. 

“I could do with a nap,” Bucky replies, and Steve nods. 

“Bedroom is through here. I'm just gonna watch TV quietly while you sleep.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, disappointed. “I hoped, maybe, you would. You know. Join me?”

Steve gives Bucky a gentle look. “Whatever you need, Buck. Come on. Let's go nap.”

They strip down to boxers and t-shirts and climb into bed together. Steve pulls Bucky close so his head is resting on Steve's chest, his arm around Steve's waist. 

Steve kisses him on the top of his head. “Missed you, Buck.”

Bucky tilts his head, drawing Steve in for a proper kiss. This time, Steve shifts slightly, deepening the kiss, and Bucky groans at the first touch of Steve's tongue to his. The kiss becomes increasingly frantic; Bucky loses himself almost completely in the slide of lips and tongues, but then Steve pulls back. 

“Fuck, Bucky, I can't… I don't wanna rush things with you.”

Bucky realises he's hard, his cock pushing against Steve's hip, and he flushes. “God, Steve, I'm sorry--I'll go sleep on the couch.”

He moves to get up, but Steve pulls him back down. 

“Don't even think about it. I'm not mad. It's just… we've both been through a lot recently and I don't think this is necessarily the right time when we’re just back and getting used to each other again.” Steve kisses him softly, his lips moving gently against Bucky's. “That's not to say I don't want to. It's not ‘not ever’, just ‘not now’.”

Bucky nods and settles back onto Steve's chest. 

“Now, go to sleep,” Steve tells him, and Bucky nods, but lies awake long after Steve has fallen asleep, thinking. He can hear Steve's heartbeat under his ear, steady and strong, and he can't help but think regretfully of all the years they've been apart--all the years he's missed. 

***

He awakens a few hours later to the sound of Steve's deep breathing. There's a clock beside the bed, which reads four-oh-six p.m. Bucky shifts slightly, stretching, and Steve wriggles beneath him. 

“Buck?” Steve murmurs sleepily. “What time is it?”

“Just a little after four,” Bucky replies quietly. “We've slept about three hours.”

“Hmm,” Steve hums, before yawning wide. “I didn't think I'd sleep but I guess I must have needed the rest.” He tilts Bucky's face up with his finger and kisses him gently. “What do you want to do tonight?”

Bucky shrugs. “Anything at all. I don't mind.”

They end up getting pizza and watching a movie, cuddling together on the sofa. The movie is apparently an old one, a black-and-white called “Top Hat”, and Bucky marvels at how far leisure technology has come that talkies can now be watched over and over again from the comfort of Steve's apartment. He has a sudden memory of watching videos of his missions back when he was under HYDRA’s control, being punished for every small recorded infraction, and he suddenly feels sick. 

The movie is exactly what he needs, a little bit of romance sprinkled in among a lot of humor and some excellent dancing. When it finishes, he finds himself slightly disappointed, and Steve gives him a knowing look. 

“You liked that, huh?” Steve asks, and Bucky nods. “Well, there's plenty more where that came from, but you should probably pace yourself. There's a lot for you to catch up on. You don't have to do it all at once.”

Bucky takes Steve's hand. “How did you manage? After you came out the ice into this future, how did you catch up?”

Steve laces their fingers together and shrugs. “I had people around me who recommended things that I should look up. Important events, culture shapers, that kind of thing. I figure I'll get to all the important stuff and fill in the blanks later.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Bucky says solemnly. “So is there anything I should know about? Because right now I'm feeling kind of lost, like I'm never gonna catch up. Like I'll always be a freak.”

Steve gIves him a sympathetic look and squeezes his fingers. He starts to talk, and Bucky spends the rest of the evening getting a quick rundown of important events of the twentieth and early twenty first centuries. He asks a lot of questions, some of which Steve can answer, some he has to look up on the internet, but it's familiar to be spending his time with Steve, if a little overwhelming. There's so much to take in, and every now and again Steve will shift awkwardly and he'll wince, reminding Bucky that he's still in pain. Still recovering from what Bucky did to him. 

Finally, about eleven p.m., Steve yawns and stretches. “We should probably get some shut-eye. We can talk more tomorrow.”

Steve gives him a new toothbrush and they get ready for bed. Bucky snuggles up to Steve again without prompting, and Steve kisses his hair. 

“Goodnight, Buck.”

“Night, Steve.”

***

The next week is spent getting to know each other again, going over everything they'd missed. Bucky talks haltingly about what HYDRA did to him over the years, and the things they made him do; Steve doesn't offer empty words of condolence, but simply holds him tight as the tears fall. 

Steve tells him about the Avengers, and how they saved New York. Bucky stares at Steve for a long time, until Steve laughs. “What?”

“Aliens? Robot aliens.”

“I know it sounds unbelievable,” Steve replies with a grin. “But I swear it's true.”

“The twenty first century is weird,” Bucky says at length, and Steve nods in agreement. 

Natasha visits a few times, and Bucky wonders if this is the norm or unusual. He usually leaves them to it, going through to the bedroom while they talk to give them privacy, but every time she leaves Steve looks annoyed, though he won't tell Bucky why. 

The fourth time she visits, Bucky presses his ear against the bedroom door, listening. He feels bad about it, but tries to convince himself it's for Steve's own good. 

The first voice he hears is Natasha's, slightly raised and sounding pissed. “...need you on the team,” she's saying, and Bucky's eyes widen. “You know we do. We can't do any missions without you there and we have a lot on the list.”

“And I keep telling you, Natasha, not yet. I'm still healing from everything. And besides, I'm not ready to get out there again yet.”

“You mean you're not ready to leave Barnes by himself.”

The silence lasts a beat too long before Steve says, so quietly Bucky almost doesn't catch it, “That's not it at all.” But Bucky knows he's lying and takes his ear away from the door, feeling slightly nauseated. 

***

By the time he's been there two weeks, Steve’s injuries are fully healed, and Bucky is starting to feel more comfortable in his own skin again. Natasha still comes over, leaving again within half an hour, looking mutinous. Bucky doesn't know what to say to Steve; HYDRA are still out there and something needs to be done, but the thought of Steve going out there without him makes him feel like he's about to panic. 

They're still taking things slow between them: soft, lazy kisses that they pull back from when things start to get too heated; sleeping in the same bed but feeling slightly awkward if when they wake up they're in such a position that they can feel each other's morning erections; casual touches coupled with the occasional longing glance. Bucky understands the logic behind going slow, and he's glad about it--it's given him time to deal with things a little. But he's no monk, and it's getting more difficult to stop kissing Steve instead of taking it further. 

He makes a decision around lunch time as he and Steve eat bagels and watch a movie called “Star Wars”. The movie itself is exciting, full of fighting and explosions and things called “lightsabers”; afterwards, they lie snuggled together on the sofa, Bucky's head on Steve's lap as Steve plays with his hair. Bucky practically purrs as Steve's fingers massage his scalp, and he opens his eyes to see Steve smiling down at him. 

Bucky sits up and turns to Steve, leaning in for a kiss which quickly turns heated. 

He can feel Steve about to pull back, to slow them down, so Bucky presses closer and murmurs against Steve's lips, “Steve. Take me to bed.”

Steve does pull back then, eyes wide. “Buck, are you… are you sure?” he asks, his eyes searching Bucky's face. 

Bucky leans in for another kiss. “I'm very sure,” he replies reassuringly. “All I can think about is you stripping me down and fucking me.”

“Jesus, Buck,” Steve manages as he swallows hard. “If you're sure--”

“I am,” Bucky says, taking Steve's hand and pressing it against his own hard cock. The pressure makes his hips buck slightly and Steve bites his lip. “I want you so bad, fuck, Steve, you have no idea.”

Steve stands and pulls Bucky up with him, grabbing Bucky's ass and drawing him in tight so Bucky can feel Steve's cock pushing against his hip. 

“I think I have some idea,” Steve says, before kissing him again. He grabs Bucky's hand and drags him through to the bedroom, and Bucky laughs at Steve's sudden impatience. 

They start stripping each other as soon as they're through the door, giggling as t-shirts catch on ears and noses and buttons on jeans just _will not_ unfasten. But finally they're both down to their boxers and Bucky pulls Steve in, luxuriating in the feel of skin on skin. He tilts his head to kiss Steve, thumbing one of Steve's nipples, and Steve moans into the kiss. 

“Mmm, still so sensitive,” Bucky murmurs, scraping his nail over Steve's nipple, and Steve gasps. 

Bucky pushes Steve onto the bed where he lands with a bounce, and Bucky climbs on top of him, straddling Steve's lap and arching his back so he can nibble at Steve's chest. Steve whines as Bucky pulls on a nipple with his teeth, and cups the back of Bucky's head, holding him in place. 

Bucky takes that as a sign to keep going, and he bites and licks and sucks and squeezes until Steve cries out, “Fuck, Bucky, you gotta slow down, oh god.” Bucky lifts his head and shoots Steve a smirk, before climbing off him and laying back on the bed. 

Steve goes into the bedside cabinet, emerging with a large, half empty tube of lubricant. Bucky raises an eyebrow when he sees it, and Steve blushes. 

“I get lonely, okay?” he says with a huff, and Bucky pulls him down into a kiss. 

“Well, I'll just have to make sure you don't get lonely any more, isn't that right?”

Steve looks down at him fondly, then kisses him again, before kissing and biting along his jaw, down his throat and over his chest and stomach to the waistband of his boxers. He grins up at Bucky, then pulls his boxers off and damn near swallows his cock. Bucky's hips come right up off the bed, and Steve pulls off, eyes watering. 

“Sorry, fuck, sorry, Steve,” Bucky says, gasping, and Steve shakes his head. 

“Don't worry about it, ‘s fine,” he replies, then holds down Bucky's hips as he takes his cock into his mouth again. Bucky's head thuds back against the pillows as he loses himself in the sensations of warm, wet suction around his cock. Suddenly he feels slick fingers stroking over his asshole, and wonders when Steve had lubed them up, but he ceases to care when one of those fingers presses inside him just as Steve sucks around the head of his cock, tonguing the slit. 

“Jesus fuck, Steve,” Bucky curses, then whines as Steve presses in another finger, crooking them up and rubbing against his prostate. “No, aaah, Steve, fuck, you need to slow down or I'm gonna come already, don't wanna come until you're inside me, please!”

Steve places one more kiss to the head of Bucky's cock before sliding up the bed to kiss him as he fingers Bucky open. Bucky licks the taste of himself out of Steve's mouth, moaning as Steve's fingers seem to be working magic inside of him. He'd forgotten how good it feels--pleasure and pain jumbling together in his senses. 

By the time Steve adds a third finger, Bucky is whimpering and begging for Steve just to hurry up and fuck him now, dammit! But Steve seems determined to take his time, and by the time he deems Bucky to be ready and carefully pulls his fingers out, Bucky’s cock is hard and leaking all over his stomach. 

Steve pulls his own boxers off and Bucky reaches down to stroke his cock. Steve bites his lip and bats Bucky's hand away, before coating his cock in lube. He grabs a pillow, stuffing it under Bucky's hips, then positions himself, leaning down to kiss Bucky softly. 

“You ready?” he asks, and Bucky nods. 

“Fuck me, Steve.”

Steve smiles down at him and starts to push in slowly, and Bucky's hands scrabble against Steve's broad, muscled back, trying to get purchase. When he feels Steve's hips press against his ass he breathes out heavily through his nose, willing his body to adjust. 

“You okay?” Steve asks, voice strained. 

“Yeah, fuck, I'm good. You can move.”

Steve nods and pulls out a little way before thrusting back in gently, and Bucky's eyes just about roll back, it feels so fucking good. Steve sets up a rhythm, but it's too slow, and not enough. 

Bucky wraps his legs around Steve's hips and pulls him down for a kiss. “I thought I told you to fuck me, old man,” he taunts, and Steve's eyes narrow before he starts to fuck Bucky harder, faster. He shifts his hips slightly as he thrusts, and Bucky cries out as Steve aims to hit his prostate on damn near every thrust. 

“C’mon, Buck, touch yourself,” Steve says, panting out the words. “Wanna see you come, Buck, come on, touch your cock.”

Never one to deny Steve anything, Bucky does as he's told, stroking himself in time with Steve's thrusts. The dual stimulation is too much, and all too quickly Bucky is babbling, “Steve, fuck, Steve, baby, I'm gonna come, you're gonna make me come, don't stop, fuck, _Steve_ ,” and he cries out as his cock spurts and he comes all over his stomach and chest. 

Steve doesn't even slow down--he just thrusts twice, three times more before groaning as he comes deep inside Bucky. 

They lie there for a few moments, catching their breath, sweat cooling on their heated skin as Steve leans in and kisses Bucky before he pulls out carefully. Bucky wraps his arms around Steve's shoulders, clinging tightly to him as they kiss, feeling Steve's come drip down his thighs and not even realizing that he'd missed the feeling until that moment. At length, they break apart, and Steve lays down next to Bucky, pulling Bucky in to lie on his chest. 

Bucky nuzzles into Steve's neck, dropping kisses everywhere he can reach. 

“You okay?” Steve asks, and Bucky nods. 

“Better than okay, Steve. That's exactly what I needed.” Bucky lifts his head, looking Steve in the eyes. “I love you, Steve. I've never stopped.”

“Me either, Buck,” Steve says thickly, cupping Bucky's cheek in his hand. 

“I think you should go with Natasha to the Avengers meeting tomorrow,” Bucky adds. “You need to get out there and help take down what's left of HYDRA.”

“You wanna join us?” Steve asks, and Bucky's eyes widen. 

“You mean it?”

Steve shrugs. “Why have one super soldier on your team when you can have two, right?”

Bucky laughs, loud and genuine, making Steve smile. “All right. Let's do it.” He bumps Steve's shoulder with his fist. “Gonna have your six all the way, just like in the old days when you were a scrappy little shit who never backed down from a fight.”

“I know you will, Buck,” Steve replied, and Bucky's heart feels fit to burst. 

His life isn't perfect, and god knows he's got a long way to go before he's fully recovered from what HYDRA did to him all these years, but this is a start. He thinks about the doctor’s number in his pocket and resolves to throw it away. He’s pretty sure that taking down HYDRA will be better than any other kind of therapy anyway. 

And with Steve by his side? He can't lose.

**Author's Note:**

> Find the author velvetjinx, and the artist Sheto, on tumblr!!


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